Leah left him to pull himself together and went into the kitchen to help Anna. She found her still muttering, and trembling like a small volcano about to erupt. They worked together in silence for a few minutes, then Anna suddenly threw up her hands and said: ‘That girl. She drive me round-a-the-bend.’
‘I gathered something was wrong,’ Leah said tactfully.
‘She is slut. She don’t wash Paulo’s nappies properly. He cry all day and all night. And you know what I find when I change him? I find he got a rash.’
‘Look, why don’t you let her work down here with me for a while so that you can take care of the baby?’ Leah suggested. ‘We’ll manage. Just till Paulo is a little older.’
‘That girl — work in my kitchen? You gotta be joking.’ Anna’s dark eyes flashed as she rolled down her sleeves and straightened her shoulders. ‘No. She goes home,’ she said firmly, thumping the table. ‘I tell Franco — either she goes or I do. And if I go I take his son with me and he never see him again.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘I do it. I had-a-that girl up to here.’ Anna’s voice rose shrilly. ‘She ruin my life, my son, my marriage and my business. My stupid brother, he is besotted, Franco, he stick up for her. Only Anna can see she no bloody good. So tonight I tell them.’
‘But — if she goes and Joe goes too, what will happen here?’ Leah ventured.
Anna threw up her hands, her eyes rolling. ‘How I know that? I don’t-a-care. Can all take running bloody jump and best of British luck. Anna go home too — to Mama.’ She sank on to a chair, the floodgates of her stifled emotions suddenly breaking into an explosion of dramatic sobbing.
Somehow they all got through, but an atmosphere of threatening gloom like vaporised gunpowder pervaded the restaurant all evening. It seemed to permeate the building like a creeping fog. Anna’s cooking was erratic and over-seasoned, either too hot or too cold. Joe sniffed audibly as he waited on the tables. He forgot to pull out chairs for the ladies and neglected to unfold their napkins for them, and his expression of monumental gloom was guaranteed to put the hungriest diner off his food. Franco was so silent and lugubrious that it might have been hemlock he was serving instead of wine. The clanging of Anna’s saucepans kept up a continuous percussion, penetrating the stout kitchen door and causing the diners to exchange wary glances. No one lingered over their meal at Bella’s Ristorante that evening.
They closed early, and with relief Leah left them to sort out their troubles among themselves. Bill put his head round the kitchen door as he heard her come in.
‘Tel rang,’ he said. ‘He’s ringing back.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Any time now.’
‘Great. I could do with cheering up,’ Leah said, taking off her coat. She glanced at Bill’s expression. ‘Why do I get the feeling that I’m about to hear something I’d rather not know?’ she asked. ‘Terry is all right, isn’t he?’
‘Ye-es.’
‘Okay, let’s have it.’
‘Better let him tell it,’ Bill said. ‘I’ve just made coffee. Come in and have a cup while you wait.’
He’d only just poured it when, the telephone rang. Leah went into the hall to answer it.
‘Terry?’
‘Ah, Bill told you I’d rung.’
‘Yes. Are you all right? How’s the frozen north?’
‘Fine. Look, Leah, I’m going to have to stay up here for Christmas.’
Her heart sank. ‘Oh, Tel, why?’
‘It’s Dad. He’s not very well. He’s going into hospital next week for an operation. I feel I ought to hang around. He hasn’t got anyone else, you see.’ Leah gripped the receiver hard. She longed to say selfishly: Neither have I. Instead she said: ‘Of course. It’s nothing serious, I hope?’
‘Not really. It’s just that I don’t like to think of him coming out of hospital to spend Christmas alone. I haven’t seen as much of him as I might have done the last few years.’
‘Of course. I understand.’
There was a small silence then Terry said: ‘Leah? You’re still there?’
‘Yes, I’m still here.’
‘You are all right, aren’t you?’
‘Of course I am.’
‘How did the reunion with your mother go?’
‘It didn’t. I went to meet her train — hung around for half the day. She didn’t show up.’
‘Oh, God. Poor Leah. I’m sorry, love.’
‘I’ve spoken to Hannah since. It seems she was unavoidably detained, as they say.’
‘What a pity. I quite thought — hoped you and she would be spending Christmas together.’
‘Never mind, Probably just as well,’ she said, trying to sound philosophical. ‘I daresay we’d both have been disappointed. Things have a way of turning out for the best. ’Bye then, Tel. Hope your father’s better soon. See you sometime.’ She hung up quickly — before he could ask about Sally, before she found herself pouring out that particular tale of woe. Or relating to him the nerve-racking evening she’d just had at Bella’s. Why should he want to listen to her troubles when he had enough of his own? She was getting to be a walking disaster lately.
As she walked back into the kitchen Bill glanced at her. ‘He told you?’
‘Yes.’ She picked up her cup of coffee and sat down in front of the Aga with it.
‘You’re disappointed.’ He pulled up a chair and sat down opposite her.
‘There’s no reason why Terry should feel obliged to spend Christmas with me. I’ve taken advantage of his good nature enough.’
‘I wondered if you might be going home for Christmas.’
She gave him a wry smile. ‘You’re joking.’
‘I thought maybe your grandmother …?’
‘I expect she’ll go to the Dobsons’. Jack is her son after all, and she’s been poorly. It’s about time they put themselves out.’
‘I see. So what will you do?’
She shrugged. ‘I did send a message to my sister inviting her to spend Christmas with me.’
‘And?’ He looked at her enquiringly.
‘Nothing. But then I didn’t really expect her to respond after what happened.’
‘So it’ll just be us. You and me?’
She gave him a rueful smile. ‘Sorry, Bill.’
He laughed. ‘Don’t be sorry. Can’t you see that I’m trying to keep the grin off my face? I’ve been dreading my own company.’
‘I’ll cook your Christmas dinner — try to make myself useful.’
He grinned. ‘Thought you’d never offer. We’ll have a great time, eh?’ He watched her for a moment. ‘Leah, I’ve never asked about you and Tel. What’s the situation there?’
‘We’re mates,’ she told him. ‘I’ve known him since I was at school. He’s always been a good friend. And as I said, I’ve taken advantage of him dreadfully. Time I stood on my own feet.’
‘There’s no romantic attachment then?’
Leah smothered the aching feeling that had been steadily growing over the past weeks. ‘No. I rather suspect that Terry sees me as a tiresome younger sister.’
‘And how do you see him?’ he asked perceptively.
‘I told you. As a good friend. One who’s probably fed up with the sight of me by now.’
‘Well, I can’t quite believe that.’ They sat in silence for a moment, then Bill asked: ‘Ever been in love, Leah?’
She smiled a little wistfully. ‘I thought I was — very briefly. But I know now that it wasn’t the real thing. I don’t believe in it really, Bill. Not the way it is in books and films. It’s all a con trick, invented to keep the human race going. There’s friendship and there’s sex. Nothing else. People waste their entire lives looking for something that doesn’t exist. They keep on looking till they’re too old to care one way or the other.’
‘What a depressing thought.’ Bill gave a little snort of laughter. ‘It’s a very cynical observation for a young girl like you. Anyway, what about the love we feel for children — family?’<
br />
‘Ah, well, I’ve no first hand experience of it, have I?’
‘Sorry, I forgot.’ He looked at her. ‘Leah, that day that your sister came here — apart from the little disagreement you had — what did you think of her?’
‘She wasn’t at all what I expected. She’s my twin, and yet she might as well be a complete stranger. She doesn’t even look like me.’
‘I suppose growing up together must make a difference.’
‘Maybe.’ Leah sighed. ‘I doubt if we’ll ever be close now. It’s too late, isn’t it? I should have known. Then there’s my natural mother. I’d built up such a picture of her in my mind; dreamed for years of the great day when I’d find her. And then when she wrote me that letter I thought — I really believed it was all coming true. The social worker made excuses, said something unexpected had happened to prevent her coming that day, but I don’t know.’ She stared pensively into her cup and, touched by her lost look Bill reached out impulsively.
‘Don’t look like that, Leah.’
Kind words were the last thing she wanted. Getting up quickly she took the cups to the sink and began to wash them, acutely aware that Bill was standing hesitantly behind her. She felt his hands, gentle on her shoulders, and stiffened, biting her lip. ‘Bill, please — I don’t think I can handle sympathy just now.’
He turned her gently to him. ‘Look, do you want to talk about it? I don’t mind if you do.’
She shook her head. ‘I just seem to be going through one of those phases when everything seems to go wrong. Everybody gets them, I suppose. It’ll pass.’ She swallowed hard in a desperate attempt to iron the wobble out of her voice. ‘Oh dear, I despise feeble women. I’ll be all right in a minute.’
‘You know what? You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever known,’ he told her.
She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘What about all those tough career girls you work with on the paper?’
Bill shook his head. ‘Ah, but you’re not tough. There’s a difference between strength and toughness. You’ve got guts and the determination to survive. But you’re deliciously feminine too.’
Surprised, she looked up at him and for a moment his eyes held hers. Then he bent and kissed her. At first she pushed against his chest in a half-hearted effort to break loose, but his arms held her gently captive, drawing her closer. And suddenly the warmth and comfort of his masculinity were too powerful to resist. She capitulated, letting her body mould itself to his and winding her arms around his neck. With a little murmur she relaxed, letting her lips part in response to his kiss.
Bill was a thoughtful, considerate lover, taking the initiative in a firm, positive way and yet with an infinite tenderness. It was only later, as she lay watching him doze, that all the complications that this situation might contain began to occur to her.
‘Bill.’ She shook him gently. ‘Bill, listen. I’m not moving in with you. I’m not saying I’m sorry that this happened.’ She frowned, searching for the right words. ‘We were just …’
He opened his eyes and watched her struggling. ‘We were just two friends comforting one another,’ he said with a smile. ‘Is that what you were trying to say? There’s friendship and there’s sex, you said, didn’t you? It’s not a bad combination. Can’t knock it, can you, Leah?’
‘I’m not all that sure that they mix.’
He closed his eyes again. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to get all heavy and possessive.’
‘You’re more than just a friend though,’ she said, tracing the line of his jaw with one finger.
He chuckled, catching at her finger and biting it gently. ‘So I should bloody well hope.’
‘I suppose we could call ourselves — loving friends.’
‘So we could.’
She regarded him for a long moment as he lay on his back. His eyes were closed again and she noticed with faint surprise that his eyelashes were as long and thick as a child’s. He was a strong man, perhaps twenty years or more older than her. He had a positive, analytical journalist’s mind and a powerful muscular body, and yet seeing him in repose like this she saw that there was something vulnerable about him. Maybe we’re all vulnerable, she told herself. All lonely, lost children at heart, needing comfort from each other. Maybe that was what Tom Clayton had needed when she had tried so ruthlessly and brashly to exploit him. She thrust the memory from her with a little stab of shame. In the months since Tom she’d done some growing up. In that kind of situation perhaps one partner always ended up exploiting the other. She shivered slightly as she said: ‘I should really find myself somewhere else to live.’
His eyes snapped open and he looked up at her. ‘Why, for God’s sake? Look, Leah, it needn’t make any difference. Tonight was a special occasion. A …’
‘One off? A one night stand?’ She raised her eyebrows at him.
He frowned. ‘No. That sounds so sordid. I was going to say, a sort of celebration, a gift to each other.’ He frowned. ‘You don’t really see it as sordid, do you?’
‘No, and perhaps that’s why I should go.’ She sat up and began to wrap herself in his dressing gown. ‘I may have to anyway. I’ve got a horrible feeling I’m going to be out of a job soon.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘The Andrettis. They’ve started quarrelling. I suspect that home-sickness is at the bottom of it. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were to pack up and go back to Italy.’
‘What will you do if they leave?’
‘Look for another job, I suppose. In another town perhaps. Maybe it’s time for me to move on.’
He was silent, shaken by the knowledge that her going would leave a bigger gap in his life than he would care to admit. ‘I know, why not start up on your own?’ he said suddenly.
She turned to stare at him, in the act of rolling up the robe sleeves. ‘Start up what?’
‘Catering. A mobile service.’
‘But that takes money. I haven’t got any and the bank wouldn’t be daft enough to make a loan to someone like me.’
‘You wouldn’t need a lot, surely? You could work from home, doing dinner parties, buffets, small functions.’
‘Home? What home?’
‘This one, of course.’ Bill spread his hands. ‘Look, before she left, Janet — my ex — bought a bloody great freezer. It’s standing there empty. Then there’s the Aga burning away like the clappers all day just to heat this place and boil the odd egg. You might as well be making use of it.’
Leah’s mind was beginning to stir with interest. ‘It’s not a bad idea, I admit. But I’d need more than a freezer and a cooker. I’d need some kind of transport. And there’d be other things — equipment and stuff. It all costs. It’d come to quite a lot by the time you’d added it all up.’
‘So — I’ll lend you some money.’
Leah frowned. ‘No, Bill.’
He sat up. ‘Why the hell not?’
‘All kinds of reasons. Suppose I failed — couldn’t pay you back?’
‘You won’t. But if you feel like that you could make me a partner.’ Seeing her doubtful expression he leaned forward. ‘Look, Leah, you could do it. I know you could. One of these days I’m going to be too old and tired for journalism and when I finally chuck it I’m going to need something to fall back on. Why don’t I set up the business and let you run it for me?’ He reached out to grasp her arm, his eyes earnest. ‘Look, there’d be no strings if that’s what’s worrying you.’
‘It wasn’t.’
‘Well then?’
She laughed suddenly. ‘How did we get into this? The Andrettis are an unpredictable lot. By tomorrow they’ll probably have made it up and be all sweetness and light. I daresay I’m worrying for nothing.’ She looked at her watch. ‘It’s late. We should both get some sleep.’
‘You’re welcome to stay here.’
She shook her head, smiling.
‘Think how cold your bed must be.’
‘Goodnight, Bill.’ She leaned acr
oss and kissed him lightly, slipping out of the reach of his encircling arms. ‘Sleep well. See you in the morning.’
*
At Petals the staff were rushed off their feet. Sally had been busy all day making up bouquets and arrangements as last-minute gifts, and although it was almost five o’clock she was only just snatching a tea break in the room at the back. It was Christmas Eve. One more hour and she could go home and put up her feet for four precious days. For a moment she allowed her thoughts to dwell on Christmas at home in Leicester. Mavis would have put up the decorations at least ten days ago. And trimmed the tree. It would be standing proudly in its usual place, in the window of the lounge, its coloured lights twinkling for passers-by to see. She wondered if the fairy doll was there on the topmost branch — and wondered wistfully who would have put her there this year. That had been her own special privilege for as long as she could remember, since the days when she had been too little to reach and Ken had had to lift her up to it. Putting the fairy on top of the tree had seemed to symbolise the start of Christmas for them all.
‘Sally, there’s a man at the counter waiting to be served.’ Mrs Greg the manageress put her head round the door. ‘You’ll have to come, I’m afraid, dear. We’re rushed off our feet.’
He was good-looking and quite young, and his brown eyes were alight with excitement. ‘I want some flowers,’ he said.
‘Well, we’ve got plenty of those,’ Sally said dryly, catching Mrs Greg’s frown out of the corner of her eye.
But the young man only laughed. ‘I reckon you have. I want a-thingummy — decoration.’
‘For an occasion, sir? Any idea what sort of flowers — any particular colour?’
‘Well, pink and blue, I suppose,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Jane, that’s my wife, has just given birth to twins, you see. A boy and a girl. One of each,’ he added, hardly able to keep the broad smile from splitting his face. ‘I’m on my way to see them now.’
The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family Page 29